A/N – hey folks, got another chapter out before I thought I would.

Note - some text comes DIRECTLY from the Avengers movie (the first few lines of Fury and Cap talking in the gym, starting with 'Trouble Sleeping?"- if you want the rest of that scene, you can watch the clip on youtube (type "fury recruits rogers avengers gym" to find the clip). I can't find a good clip of the Loki arrival scene, which is referenced in this chapter. Ah well, rent the 1st Avengers movie, it's well worth it.

There might be other smatterings of movie text in this chapter or others, as well. If there is, I'll either deviate quickly (or switch to a POV that wasn't in the movie), or end the scene; if I end it, presumably it went exactly as it did in the movie.

Previously:

On the far side of the galaxy, on Sanctuary, the figure waited, watching as the very fabric of space-time rippled before him, swirling in tandem with the glow from the scepter he held before him.

Standing now, the figure prepared himself for his journey to Midgard, and the start of his reign as King over the puny mortals that lived there, and subsequently taking his revenge on his traitorous brother.

Rising to his full height, a wicked smile transformed Loki's handsome face into a cunning, shark-like visage as he prepared for his destiny.

London

Harry Potter was walking the halls of the Ministry early in the morning on the Monday following his trip to New York with Bella. He was in a particularly good mood for a Monday, with a skip in his step and a jaunty hello for co-workers who mostly stopped to return his greeting.

"Good weekend, Chief?" one of the young female Aurors asked him when he caught him whistling when he entered the section that housed the Auror forces.

"Mm," answered Harry with a small grin. With a quick wink, he added, "Wished it could've been a bit longer though."

Leaving the chuckling Auror behind, Harry walked into his office, kicking the door shut with his heel and picking up the cup of steaming coffee that his assistant had left for him on the edge of his desk. He'd developed a taste for coffee over the past year - largely in part to Bella and her insistence on a cup of coffee before anything else in the morning - and it helped him get going more than tea did.

He sat himself in his seat, reading through the overnight reports, finding nothing out of the ordinary. A few drunken scuffles, a domestic dispute that ended up with some poor bloke getting his bollocks transfigured into marbles by his wife, and a report of a Hag chasing a young boy through the streets of Vertec Alley.

Yes, nothing too exciting happened last night, thank Merlin for that. He was in too good of a mood to deal with anything today.

Sipping his coffee, he began to trundle through the parchments that required his signature, a soft tune playing on his wireless. He'd made decent progress, and found that the morning was half over when he caught a sudden movement through the glass window on his door.

Looking up, there was no mistaking that mane of hair and the firecracker of a woman that it belonged to.

A harried looking Hermione stormed right past his assistant and opened his door without knocking. "Harry, it happened again!" she said in a hurried voice, clearly a bit breathless from her rapid ascent to his office from her department. "We got the same readings from this summer, from almost the same place in the desert. But they were larger this time, more concentrated."

Harry's good mood immediately vanished as he cottoned on to what she was referring to. It took him a moment, but his clarity of thought sharpened as he considered the implications. After all, the last time they'd detected those readings from the American southwestern desert states, a portal had opened bringing visitors from Asgard with them - one of them with an unknown mission but seemingly bent on the destruction of a small town in the middle of nowhere.

What did it mean for them this time?

Cursing the fact that he couldn't get a cellphone signal this deep in the ministry, he swept up from his desk, beckoning Hermione to follow as he moved quickly to one of the lifts that would take him to the Atrium, where he could get a signal - and call Phil Coulson.

Washington DC

Bella walked out from the front of the Leavey Center, chatting amicably with one of her casual friends who happened to be taking the same 300 level Poly Sci class as herself. The pair had walked to the bookstore to buy their textbooks, talking about their respective summers and catching up. Bella always waited a few days into the semester to buy her books as there would often be good bargains there, gained because of students who dropped the class and then resold the books to the bookstore.

When they emerged onto Main Campus, the walkways were crowded with students energized for the start of semester and enjoying the beautiful day. Bella turned left, heading for her next class, while her friend - Joanna - was going in the opposite direction. "Bella, are you going to The Tombs later?" asked Joanna, shaking her long dark hair out. "I heard Sophie wanted to go, and you know, well..."

Bella smiled, rolling her eyes. Of course Sophie was going, her party-hard roommate wouldn't miss a start of semester bash, and The Tombs was the oldest and most visited bar on campus. "I'm sure I will get dragged there, as Sophie is clued in to all my excuses at this point."

Joanna snickered; she knew Sophie well, and their British friend was famous for managing to drag people to parties against their will. "Well, I hope so. I am going with Melissa," - that was Joanna's roommate, Bella knew -," around 10ish. Should be fun!"

"Sure," Bella nodded, and Joanna laughed again, waving as she turned. She knew of Bella's aversion to crowds, and rowdiness in general.

Bella watched Joanna walk across the green, her backpack swinging with the sway of her hips, and catching the eye of several guys. Shaking her head, Bella finally turned away, walking at a relaxed pace to her next class, over at White-Gravener Hall. It really was a beautiful day, the weather still warm as the last days of summer held sway over the Capital. Even with the crowds, it was hard to be anything but happy on a day like this, with golden pockets of sunshine filtered down through leafy trees, casting pools of light on the passing students who walked along the busy paths.

Realizing she had some time to kill before her next class, Bella was in such a good mood she decided to plop herself down on the lawn near Copley Hall. She found a comfy spot to sit, under the shady leaves of a sprawling oak where she could just relax and take in the atmosphere. She people watched for a while, her mind just pleasantly blank, her ears hearing but not registering the mix of bird song and student chatter.

Her peaceful buzz was interrupted she felt her cell phone vibrate against her leg. She debated for a few seconds on whether to answer it - figuring it was probably Sophie already telling her she was going to the Tombs, no excuses allowed! - but decided to fish the sleek device out from her backpack's side pocket.

To her surprise, she had several missed texts; she hadn't heard the phone during class, but usually she'd feel it vibrate. Scrolling it open, she noticed, to her chagrin, the first two texts were indeed from Sophie, followed by a voicemail from her Dad. That one was a surprise, as he almost never called her during the week, and even then she almost always called him. She'd have to call him back and find out what's up, as she wasn't sure he knew how to text, or even if he had yet bought a cellphone. She remembered asking him why, once, and she couldn't decide if his answer was him joking or not, as he had a small smirk on his face. "Bells, if I had a cellphone it would just give the residents a way to call me during my fishing trips to tell me their cat was stuck up a tree. So no thanks."

Smiling at the memory, she opened the last message - which just came in - from Harry.

Bella unlocked her phone, opening Harry's message with a warm feeling of contentedness in her belly. Their weekend together had been fabulous, and she really hadn't wanted to say goodbye to him last night. After all, even with the amazing convenience of his portkeys, only seeing him on the weekends was difficult sometimes. She wanted to wake in his arms every day, and their ocean of separation simply didn't allow that. She wanted it badly enough that she was even considering taking the spring semester abroad in Cambridge, which wasn't far from London. If she did that, she could live with Harry in his London townhouse, and he could apparate her to school every morning, and she could take an easy commuter train - or a portkey - back to his home. Alternatively, she could go to Kings College which was in London proper, which would be even easier as she could get to and fro on city transportation with no problem.

When she first mentioned it, Sophie told her she should go for it, and she had badgered Bella until her application for the program was all filled out. The deadline for the applications was only a few weeks away, and she and Harry would be discussing it again soon.

Her happy smile, however, began to fade as she read his message:

'Bella, something serious has come up, similar to what we had last year in the desert. I've spoken to Phil, but things are very hectic right now. I'm officially 'on Consultant duty', and might be out of touch for a bit, so please don't panic. I'll try and let you know what I can when I have more info; meanwhile, you might hear from Phil yourself, not sure. If you do, please please be careful until we are together. Keep your eyes open and your wits about you. Love you. Harry.'

Bella stared at the screen, her mind blanking for a moment as she digested the message. It was a full five seconds before she visibly reacted, and when she did, her hands tightened into fists as she read the text through a second time.

It was a full minute before she finally stood, and then she was walking rapidly towards her apartment. Her hands were clenched and her mouth was fixed in a tight line as she was furiously thinking of what she was going to have to say to convince Phil Coulson and SHIELD to bring her in to help with whatever alien invader had come calling this time.

The Triskelion

Nick Fury walked purposefully through the night, moving towards the gym where his target was currently working out. Clad in his usual black trench coat, he carried nothing but a folder as he considered the current crisis they were facing.

Two days earlier, the Tesseract had suddenly come to life, opening a rift-door to...somewhere else. Through that door stepped Loki, the same Asgardian who had unleashed his robotic Destroyer on a small New Mexico town not too long ago.

This time, however, the threat was incredibly more dangerous. Not only had Loki stolen an artifact of nearly unlimited power, he now seemed to have a staff that allowed him to take control of the minds of his Agents.

Indeed, the entire incident at the Dark Energy facility had been like something straight from a nightmare. First, the Director had watched in mute horror as Loki cut down his Agents with impudent ease, shrugging off their gunfire and moving far quicker than anyone he'd ever seen. But even worse, his staff could fire explosive bolts that shredded metal and caused severe burns.

Worst of all: Loki, using his staff, turned both Barton, Selvig, and two Agents into blue eyed puppets, completely loyal to Loki, even to the point that Barton had shot the director at point blank range. The bullet had just clipped the top of his vest; an inch higher, and he would have been shot in the throat and died shortly after.

Though admittedly, Barton could have also shot him in the head just as easily. His accuracy was second to none, and deep-down Fury prayed that this meant some small part of Barton was still inside that blue eyed husk. Maybe they could reach him?

Overall, chances were slim. On the way out of the facility, Barton had killed several Shield personnel, and almost took out Maria Hill as well.

To compound the night's disasters, the entire Joint Dark Energy facility - a billion dollar complex with state of the art equipment and many prototype Phase 2 weapons and molds - was completely wiped out. One-of-a-kind equipment and six months worth of weapons molds, gone in an instant. Nevermind the eighty six personnel still unaccounted for, who presumably didn't make it out when the alarms sounded. Many of them were top-notch scientists working on cutting edge research.

And to truly cap the evening : Loki - with Barton and Selvig and the Tesseract in tow - had vanished without a trace. Fury feared that, using Barton's insider knowledge of SHIELD and how they operated, it would take something of a miracle to find them until they came out of hiding. And by then, it might be too late to stop whatever it is that Loki was planning.

Truly, this might have been the biggest debacle in SHIELD's history.

Last night's crisis meeting with the Security Council didn't help matters, and in fact made him want to pull his teeth out. It took far, far too much time to get them to agree to activate his Response Team, time that could have been better served elsewhere.

At the end - finally - they did agree. Now, all that was left for him was to gather his flock.

The Avengers. He'd been trying for years, and had always been shot down.

But not anymore.

This time, he wouldn't fail. He couldn't. The world was going to need them, he knew it in his gut. And after more than thirty years of trusting his instincts and being right far more often than not, he wasn't going to change now.

Thinking logistically, he planned on how to pull them in. He would see to the Captain personally, confident he's come aboard. He would leave Phil to collect Stark. Phil had a much softer touch that would be required with Stark, and they were both pretty sure of Potter. Romanoff was best suited to co-opt Banner, she'd been pulled from her mission in Russia. Then - depending on what they found that Loki's objectives were beyond his grandiose 'I bring glad tidings of a world made free from freedom' they might have to bring Swan in, at least as a backup.

He didn't want to have to do that; they all agreed she needed a lot more training. But, as the saying goes, 'as needs must.' Also, it didn't escape anyone's notice that this situation seemed almost tailor made for her skillset. She was, after all, seemingly impervious to mind-control, the very thing that Loki used to steal his Agents and the artifact.

Given that...well, who knows, she might just turn out to be their ace-in-the-hole.

Focusing his mind, he opened the door to the gym and walked in quietly, hearing the 'smack smack smack' of fists hitting a heavy bag from the main workout area. He grimaced, knowing what he would find. Apparently, the Captain did this a lot; trying to work out the nightmares, said the shrinks.

He stepped quietly around the corner just in time to watch Captain Rogers hit the heavy bag so hard that it snapped its chain, flying off across the gym. His breath was coming heavily, but the Captain didn't wait long before he picked up another bag and slung it up, and began to slowly rain punches down on it.

Impressed, Nick watched for a few more seconds, thinking about the Captain. He'd read the psyche reports, of course, and had discussed the old soldier's unique circumstances at length with both Hill and Coulson. Rogers was - in all respects - completely and utterly alone in a world he didn't know or understand. In the months since he'd come out of the ice, he'd shown a remarkable - but not unanticipated - disinclination to engage with anyone or anything. He'd spent most of his time walking between his small apartment and the gym, with an occasional visit for groceries and other sundries.

In Fury's view, he needed a kick-start to get him living again.

And he was here to hopefully deliver it.

After a few more flurried punches, Fury announced himself. "Trouble sleeping?" he called loudly from the shadow of the door.

Turning in surprise, Rogers looked over at the Director for a moment before turning back to the bag and resuming his workout. "I've slept for 70 years, sir. I think I've had my fill."

Fury walked slowly towards Rogers, his hands folded behind his back. "Then you should be out, celebrating. Seeing the world."

Steve finally stopped, looking at the Director with a weary sigh. He was breathing heavily, but with his superior constitution it only took two or three deep breaths to bring his respiration and heart rate back to normal.

In his mind, Steve debated for a moment on just continuing the workout, but his deep dissatisfaction with his situation - which he hoped his workout would distract him from - seeped right back in. So, with another sigh, he began to unwind the tape from his hands, turning away from Fury and walking to his gym bag. "Director, when I went under, the world was at war. When I came out, they say that we'd won."

Steve paused for a few seconds, and in a quieter voice added, "They didn't say what we'd lost."

Fury acknowledged the point, hearing the pain in the proud man's voice. "We've made some mistakes along the way," he admitted after a moment. "Some very recently," he added, fiddling with the folder in his hands.

Steve continued to unwind his wrappings, and gave the folder Fury was twirling a sidelong glance. It was obvious that whatever reason Fury came her for, it was in that folder. "Here with a mission, sir?"

"I am."

Steve nodded to himself. He'd known that the psychologists had been asking him for weeks now to get out and about more, to reintegrate himself into society. He'd been interested in a pretty, young Agent Swan that used to work out here regularly, but he'd not seen her much lately, and the other trainees seemed too much in awe of him to engage in any real conversation. So it was no surprise that Fury was here with something for him. "Trying to get me back into the world?" Steve asked with a wry tone as he unwound the tape more quickly.

Without pause, Fury answered matter-of-factly. "Trying to save it."

Steve turned, finally giving the Director his full attention.

The Triskelion

Harry looked out the window of the black SUV that had picked him up at his apparition arrival point at the MACUSA Auror office not far from the White House. The building was an ordinary looking place, and the SHIELD driver who picked him up had no idea what was inside or even who Harry was. A simple exchange of passcodes and challenge questions, and Harry was then whisked off to the Triskelion, a police escort knifing them through the heavy DC traffic.

Of course, Harry could have apparated himself straight into the Triskelion, but Fury had frowned at the idea when Harry first suggested it a few months earlier. Apparently, the super-spy didn't like the idea that Harry could go where he wanted, when he wanted, and unless he went to MACUSA for help there was nothing Fury could do to stop him.

Harry always chuckled at that.

Ignoring the passing scenery that flew past the tinted windows, Harry was sorely tempted to text Bella again - he knew she'd be worrying - but he suspected that if he told her that he was in DC, she'd be arriving here in just a few minutes, crisis be damned. He did resolve to get her a message later, though he wasn't sure what he was going to say. After all, he didn't really know what was happening himself - only that Phil had told him they were dealing with a 'Level 7 alert' - which essentially meant they were at war with an 'outside agency.' The only info Harry had beyond that was that Fury was assembling the Avengers, and that Harry's schedule for work had been cleared with Minister Shacklebolt for the near future.

He was - if anyone inquired - officially 'touring foreign ministries to evaluate their security for ideas that may be used at home." If they pressed further, they would be told "the length of the trip is not yet determined at this time."

Wonderful.

With their escort, it wasn't long until they arrived at the Triskelion. Immediately, Harry could not help but notice the increased level of security. In the past, the spy HQ had a sleek, hi-tech security feel to it; agents in suits with earpieces, cameras on tripod mounts every dozen meters, various sensor pods, and other doodads. But now, there were ordinary soldiers in fatigues, with dangerous looking automatic rifles slung across their chests, marching in pairs across the grounds. An armored personnel carrier was parked near the security gate, and large concrete barriers had been brought in to block all lanes but two going in and out. Harry had to roll his window down as they passed security, and his photo was taken and sent - presumably - to someone who would check him against a computer. A few seconds later the gates were raised and they were waived through, only to have to repeat the process a little further on.

Yes, SHIELD was certainly on high alert.

Finally, though, they pulled into a deep underground garage that Harry had not been in before. At least a dozen SUVs just like the one he was in now were parked neatly in line, and dim overhead lights, recessed into the concrete ceiling, provided murky, almost dirty lighting, giving the place the feel of a mausoleum.

Two more soldiers were stationed by a large metal door, as well as a man in a suit with an earpiece, and a computer tablet in his hand. Everything was dull grey concrete or steel, with absolutely no color anywhere.

"Cheerful place," Harry remarked as his door was opened for him by the driver. He stepped out, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder, and the driver walked away without a word, getting back into the car and driving off as Harry watched him go with a hint of amusement.

Meanwhile, the suited man came up to Harry. "Greetings, Marshall Potter, I'm Agent Stillwell. I'm Phil Coulson's assistant. If you'll come with me, I'll get you upstairs." He didn't offer a hand, and Harry simply nodded and followed a slight step behind him.

They walked silently through the metal door and into a short tunnel that led to another door, almost as if they had passed through an airlock. They walked up a grated, sloped ramp, and after perhaps another minute they walked through a final metal door where their name and photos were compared to a screen while two heavily armed MP's stood sentry.

A green light flickered on the screen, and the door swung open, revealing natural light, which was startling for a few moments after being in the murky sub-basement. Once through the security area, they were in the building proper, with its dark tiled floors and high glass walls that Harry was familiar with.

Only, the amount of activity was far in excess of anything Harry had seen before. Where in the past people had walked with a purposeful stride, they had at least appeared at ease. Now, however, everyone seemed to be almost scurrying around, or typing furiously while staring at their screens. The normal chatter of background voices was instead a harsh whisper with an occasional punctuated remark, giving the impression of desperate activity.

"This place sure looks like a stirred-up beehive," Harry commented, stepping into a glass elevator with Stillwell.

The Agent grimaced. "Yes, I've never seen it quite as busy as this, and I've been her almost twenty years."

Harry nodded. "Is Phil here?"

Stillwell shook his head. "Agent Hill will debrief you shortly."

Nodding again, and knowing that Stillwell probably wouldn't answer anything for Harry even if they were in a secure room, Harry followed him from the elevator and down another long hallway until he reached the same briefing room that he'd long ago planted his listening bug in.

Inside, were Maria Hill and Director Fury, already seated and in hushed conversation.

Fury looked up, and Agent Hill swiveled her chair so she was half facing Harry. "Take a seat, Marshall Potter," Fury said, his manner and voice formal and straight to business. He'd never before addressed Harry by his ICW Title, and that told Harry almost as much as the scurrying anthive outside told him.

When Harry sat, Fury leaned forward. "We may not have a lot of time."

"Okay then," Harry thought grimly. "Showtime."

Agent Hill pushed a manila folder across the table to him. Opening it, he saw a picture of a square, blue cube that was glowing brightly. Above it, in large text, was written 'The Tesseract.'

Director Fury paused for a few seconds, and then folded his hands on the table. "I'll be brief, Marshall. Most of the stuff in the folder contains background information for you to read later." Another brief pause, and his voice seemed to deepen and sound graver than it usually did. "Two nights ago, our old friend Loki somehow opened a portal through space into a sublevel of a top secret facility in New Mexico where we were conducting research on that object you are looking at. It's called the Tesseract." Another brief pause. "Once he arrived, he killed a handful of agents, mind-controlled a few others, and stole the artifact."

Fury let that sink in before continuing. "As of this moment, Loki has Agent Barton under his control, and has successfully dropped off the grid. I am assembling my response team while we hunt for Loki. I've named them The Avengers."

Harry let out a breath, his mind sweeping back, replaying the two encounter's he'd had with Loki and his robot. He remembered the first battle, where Bella's strange mind shield had undoubtedly saved him from being skewered after being fooled by Loki's illusion magic; and the second battle, where he was able to hold his own against the robot, but it had taken Thor to decisively finish it off.

Given his mediocre performances against the Asgardian, Harry might have reason to worry. However, since those incidents, Harry had been seriously training. In fact, he'd been training much harder than anyone knew, putting in hours of hard work almost every day with spells he'd rarely used before and rarer spells that, while normally too weak to be used in combat, were given extra 'juice' because of the Elder Wand. If a rematch came with something like that robot again, he was confident he would turn it into scrap.

Finally, he had cajoled Hermione to allow him to use one of the two remaining time turners that the Ministry still had (most having been destroyed during his sojourn there during 5th year and afterward by Voldemorts forces), and he'd managed to squeeze in an extra few months of 'turned time' to train himself to near exhaustion using spells that he doubted had been used by anyone since the days of Grindenwald.

Focusing on the present, Harry opened the folder, flipping pages, unsurprised to see a one page dossier on himself, Agent's Romanoff and Barton, Tony Stark, Captain America, and Bruce Banner. All of these had green borders on them, presumably signifying something. Flipping to the next page, he saw there were several more dossiers in there, but these were bordered in yellow. One of them was for Thor, the Asgardian he'd met in Puente Antiguo. And then, the very last page - also bordered in yellow - was Bella's dossier.

Letting out a slow breath, Harry held that in his hand, the rest of the folder forgotten as her lovely face jumped out at him from the page. Even in the less than flattering SHIELD id photo that they used for the dossier, you could see the kindness in her expression, the warmth in her eyes. He hated that she might be a part of this.

Even more, he hated the fact that they might very well need her.

Blinking away some dust in his eye that caused a tear, Harry saw that Hill and Fury were waiting on him.

Closing the folder, he folded his own calloused hands on the table, and leaned forward with an air of determination. "I'm in, Director."

A/N - let me know if you enjoyed! I'm trying to keep the stuff that happened in the movie sort of 'background' until absolutely necessary (which will be quite soon).